


farborough kids

by orphan_account



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Death, High School AU, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, anyway its not as bad as it may seem im an okay writer i swear i try my best, by me not others, i cant spell shenanigans i just found out, just general dying, troye connor dodie jon and tyler are basically the Squad™, troye is a baby who did not deserve any of this shit, who get into a lot of bi n gay shenanigans, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:44:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The bell rang abruptly, startling Troye enough for his head immediately to snap in the direction of the clock, which showed there was still two minutes left till the class actually started.Two bells, huh, Troye thought. Memories of Carmel surfaced, but he tried his best to drown them in the sea of worries, anticipation and anxiety bubbling in his head like a cauldron.The second bell rang just as someone walked in, who Troye assumed to be the teacher following suit behind. The boy, Troye now saw, stumbled around a bit, lifted his head and walked right past Troye, giving him the opportunity to study his face for a second, which was enough for him to notice that the boy hadthe greenest eyes ever holy fucking shiiiiiit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> basically a high school squad au  
> and you will get sum sweet sweet romance too dontcha worry

Farborough College.

The letters were big, green and proudly sat on the roof of the school, a sight to everyone whose eyes might've caught the building.

Troye sighed, tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack and walked in on his ever-so-slightly shaky feet. 

\---

Truth is, Troye Sivan Mellet was not overjoyed by the idea of school starting once again, this time in a new flat that was much smaller than home had been, a new town that he hadn't known existed and a new school that apparently was much bigger and much scarier than it had seemed on the pictures he had found on Google. And alright, he probably would admit that he wouldn't be as upset about all these changes if they weren't all tied to him, but they were. Everything was because of him and his inability not to fuck up.

Alright, Troye hadn't exactly loved it back in Carmel, either (the school was full of narrow-minded arseholes), but at least it was familiar, he knew his way around the building and he didn't need to communicate much to anyone except for when the teachers called his name. Farborough College was gigantic, with five floors and actual lockers and an absolute fuckton of people and _fuck he needed to ask someone for directions fuck my absolute fucking life oh my fucking god why._

Gulping, Troye snapped out of his thoughts (as much as he could, anyway) and looked around in search of the least threatening-looking person in the hallway packed full of teenagers. He settled for a girl with light brown hair that he spotted alone near what Troye assumed was her locker and - albeit reluctantly - made his way over to her, stuttering slightly as he asked her where he could find his timetables. She absent-mindedly redirected him to a corkboard on the wall in the lounge of the second floor and Troye stormed off, only realizing he had forgot to thank her when he was already jogging up the stairs of the first floor.

The corkboard wasn't very hard to find (considering it took up about a quarter of the wall itself anyway), leaving him to quickly write down the numbers of his classrooms and find the first one, History, which was number K317. (Troye had no idea what the respective K, W and C in front of the numbers meant, but he was not going over to another student to ask lest his life depend on it).

Fortunately for Troye, K317 was indeed on the third floor of the building, thank god. But even though he managed to get to class a few minutes early, most seats were already taken. He mentally facepalmed - why was he disappointed? This was his first day at this school, not anyone elses. Surely everyone had been seated where they were _since they started school here, you idiot._

Troye desperately scanned the classroom, searching for an empty desk as far back as he could possibly get. He eventually settled for a seat near the window in the second-to-last row (the other option had been in the second row near the door, and as much as Troye would've enjoyed being able to get out of class as quickly as possible, it was a bit riskier in terms of being spotted sleeping/drawing/otherwise not paying attention by the teacher). He walked over and after a soft "Is this seat taken?" to the girl sitting behind him, Troye dropped his backpack and sat down, breathing in and closing his eyes for a few seconds longer before opening them again, feeling slightly calmer. He felt the warm autumn air against his cheek - he hadn't noticed that the window was open. He could hear cars passing by. Birds chirping.

 _You aren't okay, but you will be. You aren't okay, but you will be._ The mantra seemed to repeat itself in his mind.

The bell rang abruptly, startling Troye enough for his head immediately to snap in the direction of the clock, which showed there was still two minutes left till the class actually started. _Two bells, huh,_ Troye thought. Memories of Carmel surfaced, but he tried his best to drown them in the sea of worries, anticipation and anxiety bubbling in his head like a cauldron.

The second bell rang just as someone walked in, who Troye assumed to be the teacher following suit behind. The boy, Troye now saw, stumbled around a bit, lifted his head and walked right past Troye, giving him the opportunity to study his face for a second, which was enough for him to notice that the boy had _the greenest eyes ever holy fucking shiiiiiit._

"Chels, you're sitting in my seat." Was that how his voice sounded? It was nice to hear. It soothed Troye's nerves after hearing nothing but the rumbles of the school bus, the wind and the buzz of dozens of teenagers talking for a while. It was clear. Not brash, not overly melodic, not too sharp, not too soft. Just.. nice.

"Sod off, Franta, new year, new seats. Not my problem I was here before you." Troye recognized the voice of who he assumed to be Chels as the girl he had asked about his timetables before. Her voice was.. quite deep, nothing out of the ordinary, but deep. A bit monotonous as well, but that might just be her not willing to make much of an act out of answering to the boy- Franta, was it?

"Chel-seaaaa. Please. You know how House is," Franta pleaded. Troye guessed that was his last name.

There was a note of malicious joy in her voice as she replied: "Exactly. Now quit it. Want your seat back, wait till next year." 

Franta sighed dramatically to signify his annoyance and went quiet. Troye heard footsteps, but he didn't see him. That is, until a "Hey." was heard. Troye looked over to see Franta standing next to his desk, which still had an empty spot remaining. "D'ya mind if I sit here?"

Troye's breath got caught somewhere in between his nose, throat and lungs. "U-uh, yeah, s-sure." The boy smiled. "Thanks!"

He sat down next to Troye. 

_he's pretty and he talked to me he's pretty and he talked to me he's pretty and he talked to me holy fuck his eyes are green_


End file.
